Pope Francis’ insistence on open dialogue, even in thorny matters like divorce or gender identity, reflected his belief in pastoral discernment and the primacy of conscience.
Biju Madathikunnel C.Ss.R
On 13 March 2013, following the historic resignation of Pope Benedict XVI, Cardinal
Jorge Mario Bergoglio of Argentina was elected as the 266th pope of the Catholic
Church. His election was marked by many firsts: the first Jesuit pope, the first from the
Americas, and the first to take the name Francis—in honour of Saint Francis of Assisi, the
saint of peace, humility, and care for creation. This marked a significant shift in the Church’s
tone—away from privilege and towards simplicity, mercy, and engagement with the
margins.
The date of his election—13/3/13—sparked curiosity and speculation due to its numerical
symmetry. While the number 13 is often seen as unlucky in Western superstition, Pope
Francis redefined it with grace. In fact, March 13, 2020, another Friday the 13th, was when
the world entered a critical phase of the COVID-19 pandemic—a moment that would later
highlight Pope Francis’s pastoral leadership amid global crisis.
I vividly remember that day. Expecting an announcement, I made my way to Saint Peter’s
Basilica with a friend. Personally, I was nearing the end of my Master’s studies and
wrestling with questions about the Church’s institutional relevance, clericalism, and the
faith crisis affecting many. When the white smoke rose and the bells of Saint Peter’s rang
out, joy rippled through the crowd. When Cardinal Jean-Louis Tauran announced
Franciscus, there was a reverent pause, then waves of surprise. But what touched me most
was his first gesture—not addressing the crowd with grandeur, but bowing his head and
asking for the people’s blessing. It was as though the Holy Spirit whispered hope into the
Church again. My doubts dissolved.
Since then, I have had the rare privilege of meeting Pope Francis twice after our
Redemptorist General Chapters. The first meeting was personal and informal, revealing his
warmth, humour, and spontaneous affection. The second was during a formal address,
where he encouraged us to read the signs of the times and boldly reimagine our mission in
the context of today’s wounded world.
Pope Francis’ humility became evident through simple, meaningful acts. In 2013 alone, he
washed the feet of prisoners and migrants during Holy Thursday Mass; carried his own
briefcase during a papal trip to Rio; embraced Vinicio Riva, a man with neurofibromatosis,
in a deeply human and healing moment; welcomed a child who ran onto the stage during a
public event; and celebrated his birthday with the homeless. These weren’t staged
moments—they were natural expressions of a shepherd truly among his people.
In April 2019, a remarkable scene unfolded at the Vatican during a spiritual retreat for
South Sudanese leaders. After days of prayer and dialogue, Pope Francis stunned the world
by kneeling and kissing the feet of President Salva Kiir and opposition leaders, including
Riek Machar. It was an unprecedented gesture of humility, echoing Jesus washing of his
disciples feet. His message was clear: political power must bow before the call to peace and
reconciliation. It was one of the most Christ-like public actions of his papacy, deeply rooted
in servant leadership.
The writings of Pope Francis reflect a shepherds heart and a reformer’s urgency. His first
major document, Evangelii Gaudium (The Joy of the Gospel), reorients the Church toward
joy, mission, and a spirit of evangelisation that includes rather than excludes. His encyclical
Laudato Si’ became a landmark in the global conversation on climate justice and integral
ecology, calling for an ecological conversion. Fratelli Tutti, another key document,
expanded the Church’s social vision to include fraternity, solidarity, and peace across all
divides.
One of his most personal and accessible writings is The Name of God is Mercy. Through a
series of conversations with journalist Andrea Tornielli, Pope Francis shares theological
reflections and pastoral anecdotes centred around God’s endless compassion. He describes
the Church as a field hospital—called not to judge, but to heal wounds. For him, mercy is
not a side note in Christian life—it is its beating heart.
His non-judgmental attitude, especially in matters concerning same-sex relationships, drew
both praise and critique. When asked about gay individuals seeking God, he replied, Who
am I to judge? While maintaining traditional teachings, he emphasized respect,
accompaniment, and inclusion. This pastoral stance helped many feel seen by the Church,
without fear of exclusion. It reflected his broader vision of a Church that prioritises love
over legalism and listening over pronouncement.
Over the years, Pope Francis introduced bold reforms that touched almost every level of
ecclesial life. His apostolic constitution Praedicate Evangelium in 2022 restructured the
Roman Curia, streamlining Vatican departments and shifting the focus towards
evangelisation and pastoral care. The financial sector saw major efforts at transparency and
ethical management. He addressed the sexual abuse crisis with the landmark document Vos
Estis Lux Mundi, holding bishops accountable and lifting the veil of secrecy in abuse
investigations.
Francis did not merely restructure governance—he reimagined it. Through the Synod on
Synodality, he opened pathways for laity and women to participate in Church discernment
processes, challenging hierarchical rigidity. He called for a Church that listens, walks with
its people, and is unafraid of uncomfortable questions. His insistence on open dialogue, even
in thorny matters like divorce or gender identity, reflected his belief in pastoral
discernment and the primacy of conscience.
In 2018, he made a significant doctrinal shift by revising the Catechism of the Catholic
Church to declare the death penalty inadmissible under any circumstance, citing the
dignity of the human person. He also suggested adding ecological sins to Catholic moral
teaching, underscoring that care for creation is a moral and spiritual duty, not just a political
concern.
Francis was a student of Church history and doctrine. Inspired by thinkers like St. John
Henry Newman, he advocated for the development of doctrine—not changing core dogma,
but deepening its understanding in light of changing contexts. This vision allowed for
compassionate pastoral responses to complex realities without compromising truth.
Critics sometimes mistook his openness for doctrinal compromise. But Pope Francis
consistently reaffirmed his grounding in Catholic tradition. As he said, The Word of God is
not a museum piece. It is a dynamic reality. He called the Church to interpret timeless
truths with the eyes and heart of the Good Shepherd.
As of March 2025, Pope Francis completed 12 years as pope—a milestone rich in biblical
symbolism. The number 12 represents completeness and divine authority: 12 tribes of
Israel, 12 apostles, 12 gates of the heavenly city. His 12-year papacy marks a period of
remarkable transformation: spiritual, pastoral, and institutional.
Throughout his journey, he remained a pope of the people—seen not only in his travels and
homilies, but in his simple presence, genuine smiles, and deep silences. His outreach to the
poor, his concern for migrants, his passionate pleas for peace, and his prophetic calls for
ecological and social justice showed a Gospel lived with authenticity.
On Easter Monday of 2025, as the Church celebrated the joy of the Resurrection, the world
received the news of his passing. Pope Francis died peacefully, leaving behind a Church
more compassionate, more courageous, and more connected to the cries of humanity. His
death on such a sacred day felt providential—as if the Risen Lord welcomed home one of his
most faithful servants.
Pope Francis’ legacy is not confined to policies or publications. It is etched in the hearts of
millions who felt seen, healed, and challenged by him. He reminded us that the Church is not
an institution of rules, but a community of grace. He led not as a monarch, but as a
shepherd—close to the flock, bearing their burdens, and pointing them always to Jesus, the
face of mercy. Indeed, through him, mercy was made visible.
